Tibetan and Himalayan Library - THL

Procedures and Rules of Debate

Tibetan debates involve two parties: a defender (damchawadam bca’ ba), who answers, and a questioner (riklamparigs lams pa). The roles of
defender and questioner imply very different commitments, as
Daniel Perdue explains: “The defender puts forth assertions
for which he is held accountable. The challenger raises qualms to the defender’s
assertions and is not subject to reprisal for the questions he raises.”37
The responsibility of the defender is to
put forth a true thesis and to defend it. Hence, the defender is accountable for the truth of his assertions.
The questioner, on the contrary, is
responsible only for the questions he puts forth. His questions must be
well-articulated, must logically follow from the points already made, and must be
relevant to defeating the defender. Their
truth content is irrelevant, however, for his task is not to establish a thesis but
to oblige the defender to contradict
either previous statements or common sense.

The debate starts with a ritual invocation of Mañjuśrī, the celestial bodhisattva patron of wisdom: dhīḥji ltar chos can (pronounced
“dhi jitar chöchen”). This invocation can be translated as “dhīḥ [the seed syllable of Mañjuśrī]; in just the
way the subject.” Obviously, this statement is rather unclear and hence offers ample
scope for various creative interpretations, as is often the case with ritual. Some
scholars take the statement to mean “dhīḥ; in just the way [Mañjuśrī investigated] the subject.”38 Others, myself included, read it more
simply as “dhīḥ; in just the way the
subject [is investigated].” This invocation, however, also plays on the homophonic
similarities of the syllable dhīḥ
and this (di’di). Thus, the statement can
also be heard as meaning “This is the way the subject is,” a statement that can be
taken as having deeper implications (an explanation offered by Lati RinpochéBla ti rin po che). The
subject, this, then refers to conventional objects and the
predicate, is the subject, to the empty way in which they exist.

After this ritual invocation, the questioner proposes the topic of the debate in the form of a question, which
seeks to elicit the defender’s thesis. The
defender answers, stating his position.
The questioner may then immediately begin
the debate, or he may first seek auxiliary explanations to clarify the position of
his adversary. The point of this crucial preparatory phase (jorwasbyor ba) is to establish a starting point for the debate, an
area of agreement between the two parties. This may be one of the most delicate
phases of an argument, especially if the two parties do not belong to the same
tradition or monastery.

Such conflictual situations have long existed in the Buddhist
tradition. In ancient India, debates pitched
orthodox Hindu thinkers against their heterodox opponents
(materialist, Jain, Ājīvika, or Buddhist). These debates, which
had political ramifications, were often witnessed by the local authorities, and the
stakes could be the conversion of one group to the views of the other. In Tibet, a similar debate is supposed to have taken place at
the end of the eighth century when Kamalaśīla is said to have defeated the Chinese Chan monk Mo He Yan, thereby establishing the primacy of the Indian tradition.39 More recently, the young KhedrupMkhas grub is said to have
debated and, according to GelukDge lugs accounts, defeated RongtönRong ston. Nowadays, such confrontations between scholars from
different traditions are rare; they have been replaced among GelukpaDge lugs pas by debates between
monasteries. Most debates take place within a single monastery, where the agreement
between parties is easier to establish. Even then, however, fashioning that agreement
is crucial and requires great skill. The questioner must dissimulate his real point and the defender must try to guess where his opponent wants to
lead him.

Once the two parties believe that they agree on the understanding of the terms of the
debate, the main part (ngözhidngos gzhi) can unfold
through questions and answers.40 The questions are meant to draw out the consequences of the defender’s statements in order to oblige him
to contradict himself or to take a blatantly absurd position. To succeed, the questioner must be able to take apart his
opponent’s statements to draw out unwanted consequences. His opponent, the defender, must for his part attempt to block
these contradictions by making further distinctions. In doing so, he must give one of
the three allowable answers:41

I accept (dö’dod).

The reason is not established
(ta madruprtags ma
grub).

There is no pervasion (khyappa majungkhyab pa ma
byung).

These three answers derive from the link (or lack thereof) of the reason with the
subject and the pseudo-predicate. The defender can say “I accept,” if he
thinks that the consequence supports his position. Or he can say “the reason is not established,” when the reason does not
correspond to the subject. For example, the consequence “It follows that all dogs are
intelligent because they are primates” is faulty because dogs are not primates.
Hence, the reason is not established. Or he can say “there is no pervasion” when the reason does not entail
the pseudo-predicate as in the consequence “It follows that all dogs are primates
because they are mammals.” In such a consequence, the reason is established but does
not entail the pseudo-predicate. Or, to put it more literally, there is no pervasion.

As SapenSapaṇ noticed, these
three answers differ from the Indian model. Most
clearly a Tibetan invention is the third answer (there is no pervasion), which does not exist
in Dharmakīrti’s
debating tradition. There, defenders must
make explicit whether the reason is contrary (gelwa’gal
ba) or just uncertain (mangepama nges pa), that
is, inconclusive. Thus defenders have four
answers to choose from and need to make their response more specific.42 This
difference illustrates the originality of Tibetan
practices, which go beyond imitating Indian models in
responding to the Tibetan context. Moreover, the
failure of non-GelukDge lugs
institutions to follow SapenSapaṇ’s recommendations regarding these answers shows again the
domination of the SangpuGsang phu tradition of debate throughout the Tibetan world.

One of the three allowable answers must be given to all well-formed consequences. In
order to be well-formed (like the examples above), a statement should contain three
terms: a subject, a pseudo-predicate, and a reason. It should also avoid ambiguity.
For example, if the questioner asks
whether humans have male or female sexual organs, the defender will not be able to answer without
disambiguating the subject (human). At that point, the defender must state his objection. In addition,
consequences should not lead defenders
into paradoxes (so judged by the rules of conversation). For example, consider the
following question: “Did you bring back the computer you stole?” Such a statement
cannot be answered straightforwardly without implying an admission of guilt. In all
these cases, the defender should point to
such a faulty formulation by saying, “the subject
is faulty” (chöchen kyönchenchos can skyon can). But absent such faults, the
defender has no choice. The ability to
give one of the three allowable answers while making meaningful statements is a sign
of a good defender. In difficult
situations, defenders often try to muddle
the situation and break the flow of consequences by saying, “What I really mean is. .
.” These explanations are not accepted and reflect poorly on the defender. The questioner may reply, “No need to say much; just give one of the three
answers.” Or he may mock the defender,
pretending that his adversary is a great teacher about to give a sermon. In most
cases, defenders are brought back, more or
less gently, to the three answers.

Another element in debate is that defenders must answer quickly. Whenever a defender delays his answer, the questioner urges him on with rhythmic triple handclaps punctuated by the
words “chirphyir, chirphyir, chirphyir” (i.e., chi chirci’i phyir,
“why”). If this is a
formal debate, the audience joins in, thus increasing the pressure on the defender. If the defender still does not answer, the questioner and the audience may start to tease him: “Are
you here or are you absorbed in meditation?” If still nothing is forthcoming, the
questioner either provides the required
information himself or recasts his point in a simpler form. In this way, the debate
is made so clear that the defender must
answer. If he still cannot, a member of the audience is likely to step in and answer
in his place. Such an outcome is humiliating for the defender, a sign that he is not up to the task.

It is in this framework that the debate unfolds strategically. The questioner tries to force his opponent either to
contradict himself or to contradict common sense. To do so, he must be able to break
down complex arguments into simple elements that can be expressed in a chain of
well-formed consequences that follow each other logically. He must also keep track of
the position of his adversary and where he wants to take him. The defender must figure out the questioner’s strategy and thwart his efforts, using only
the three answers.

Let us take the example of a debate about the definition of impermanence, which is
“that which is momentary.”43
The debate starts by delineating the agreement between both parties. The questioner may ask for further clarification,
with such questions as “What does moment mean in this
definition?” “Does it refer to a brief moment or to a longer one?” The defender may answer that the moment implied
by momentary is brief. The questioner then
proceeds to draw consequences, thinking that he has enough to go on. He may start,
“It follows that things last only for a short moment since they are momentary.” This
statement is framed to embody the defender’s answer concerning the meaning of momentariness and is considered
the root consequence (tsawé telgyurrtsa ba’i thal ’gyur),
which derives from the root thesis (tsawé damchartsa ba’i dam
bca’) that the defender must be
made to contradict.

The questioner proceeds by drawing out
unwanted consequences intended to force the defender to give the no-pervasion answer that contradicts his explanation
of the meaning of momentariness. For if the meaning of momentariness is to last only
for a short moment, then being momentary must entail lasting for a short moment. To
deny this and hold that there is no pervasion is thus tantamount to directly
contradicting the thesis. Presented with the root consequence that embodies his view
of the meaning of momentariness, the defender must try to thwart the questioner’s attempts by choosing the answer that he can defend and does
not contradict his earlier point. In this example, he has one obvious choice: to
assent to the consequence. The other possibility, the rejection of the reason as
being not established, is less defensible, since it contradicts the fundamental
Buddhist view that all things are momentary. And, as noted,
saying that there is no pervasion would contradict his thesis concerning the meaning
of momentariness. Hence, he will assent to the question, thereby agreeing with a
classical interpretation of the Buddhist doctrine of impermanence.
The questioner’s task is then to oblige
the defender to back off from his
acceptance of the root statement, forcing him to make the no-pervasion answer that
contradicts his main thesis. To do so, the questioner will draw unwanted consequences from the defender’s position, pushing him to make
counterintuitive statements until he reaches the point of absurdity. For example, the
questioner will point to a mountain and
state: “It follows that this mountain also lasts for a short moment since it is
momentary.” If the defender still agrees,
the questioner may point to the fact that
it cannot exist just for a short moment since the mountain has been there for
millions of years. He may also try to oblige his opponent to agree with blatantly
counterintuitive statements. For example, he can ask: “Have you never seen any object
lasting more than a moment? Have you never seen any object older than a moment? Have
you never seen any person older than a moment?”44

Obliging the defender to make ridiculous
statements is one of the ways for the questioner to gain the upper hand, forcing a reductio ad absurdum that can be
seen as tantamount to a defeat of the defender. But although this way of ending the debate can be quite fun, it is
not favored, for it is difficult to distinguish a blatant absurdity from an
apparently counterintuitive but valid point. Hence, debaters prefer to end with their
opponents’ self-contradiction. In our example, the defender may try to back away from the counterintuitive
consequences that the questioner has
drawn. He may agree that there are objects older than a moment. At this point, the
questioner must take the defender back to his root statement and
oblige him to contradict himself. He may state: “It follows that the mountain lasts
for more than one moment, since it is older than a moment.” The questioner will try to resist; for example, he might
attempt to make distinctions between “being older than” and “lasting for more than.”
The defender must then try to block these
attempts. If he succeeds, he will be able to take the defender back to his root statement, which he will
restate: “It follows that things last only for a short moment since they are
momentary.” At that point, the defender
has an unenviable choice between two answers: reason not established and
no-pervasion. The former implies the rejection of the fundamental Buddhistview that things are momentary. If he chooses this answer, a whole new
debate starts. The questioner may try a
rhetorical jab: “I thought you were a Buddhist!” But such a move
can also backfire. The defender can turn
the tables on the questioner, taunting him
to establish this fundamental tenet: “I know what great masters such as Dharmakīrti would say. But
let us see what you can do!” The questioner will then have to mount a new attack to oblige the defender to retract his rejection of this
Buddhist tenet. If the questioner succeeds, the defender will have no other choice than to give the answer that here dooms
him: “There is no pervasion.” This is the moment of triumph for the questioner, who will express his victory by saying:
“the root thesis is finished (tsawé damcha tsarrtsa ba’i dam
bca’ tshar)” or, more briefly, “oh,
it’s finished (o tsaro’ tshar)”.45

This is the end of this debate, with the clear victory of the questioner. This victory is due to a direct
contradiction between two statements and hence is easily detectable. Such clarity of
outcome may explain why there is no formal role for a witness in Tibetan debates. Unlike Indian debates, which proceeded according to formal argumentative criteria on
which a witness could adjudicate, Tibetan debates
proceed through consequences aimed at exposing direct contradictions in the views of
the defender. Detecting such
contradictions does not require any special skills and hence the presence of a
witness is not necessary.

Not all debates end in a defeat for the defender. Sometimes the questioner
is unable to force the defender into
contradicting himself and the debate ends in a stalemate. At other times, the defender gives an answer that establishes his
view as being well-founded. In our example, the defender may succeed in maintaining that not all things are impermanent
and hence escape contradicting himself. He might end his successful defense with a
little rhetorical dig, marking his understanding that he has contradicted a basic
Buddhist tenet for the sake of argument: “Fortunately,
Dharmakīrti was
smarter than you. If all Buddhists were like you, we would have
long ago ceased to be Buddhist!” This is a clear victory for the
defender, especially if he succeeds in
making some good points in the process. Sometimes the debate ends abruptly when the
questioner’s debate breaks down (taksel chértags bsal chad) and he is left without
anything to say. When this happens in an individual debate, the embarrassment is
minimal. But in a formal debate (damchadam bca’) the
experience can be quite humiliating. The questioner may be left standing speechless in the midst of a large
audience for a couple of extraordinarily painful minutes, until the abbot or the
disciplinarian rescues him by bringing the debate to a merciful end. The defender may then make matters worse with a
few unpleasant comments—for example, “You used to brag so much! Where is your debate
now?” Most questioners manage to assert,
often stammeringly, a few random consequences. However, it is clear to everyone that
their debate has broken down and that they are just trying to avoid humiliation.

In the cases of such a victory or of a stalemate, there are no formal criteria
according to which the debate can be adjudicated. For example, if the defender is ridiculed, there are no formal
ways to determine what is ridiculous and what is not. The same is also true when the
questioner’s debate simply fades away.
In these cases, the outcome cannot be determined formally and hence there is little
role for a witness. The outcome is left to the often conflicting opinions of
participants and listeners. It is only in the case of a direct contradiction on the
defender’s part that the outcome can be
formally decided, a remarkable feature of Tibetan
debates.

[38] So Perdue puts it: “dhīḥ! The subject, in just the way [mañjuśrī
debated]” (Debate in Tibetan Buddhism, 103).

[39] See D. S. Ruegg, Buddha-nature, Mind, and the Problem of Gradualism in a Comparative
Perspective: On the Transmission and Reception of Buddhism in India and
Tibet (London: School of Oriental and African Studies, University of London, 1989).

[40] SapenSapaṇ
differentiates three phases in debate: a preparation (jorwasbyor ba) in which the two proponents seek
a common basis, the main part (ngözhidngos gzhi) of the debate, and the
conclusion (jukmjug) during which the
witness summarizes the argument and establishes the winner (C. Beckwith, “The Medieval Scholastic Method in Tibet and in the West,” in Reflections on Tibetan Culture: Essays
in Memory of Turrell V. Wylie, ed. L.
Epstein and R. Sherburne
[Lewiston, N.Y.: Mellon Press, 1990], 307-13). In actual Tibetan debates, the third element is absent since there is no
witness.

[41] The three
answers concern complete statements containing three terms (subject,
pseudo-predicate, and reason). In the GelukDge lugs tradition, an incomplete
consequence is allowable. Consider this statement: “It follows that the subject, a
mountain, lasts only for a short instant.” Such a statement has only two parts,
but is nonetheless considered well-formed since it allows a straightforward
answer. An incomplete statement can be answered in two ways: either by accepting
(dö’dod; lit., “[I] accept”)
or by refusing (ci’i phyirci’i phyir; lit., “why”) it. In our
example, these answers mean: I accept that the mountain lasts only for a short
instant; or, I do not accept that the mountain lasts only for a short instant. If
the latter answer is given, the rigs lams pa can immediately state the incomplete
consequence: “It follows that the subject, the mountain, does not last only for a
short instant.” The only possible answer to such a consequence is positive; any
other is considered a breach of rules of rational discourse. Because other
traditions have reconstituted their practice of debate by imitating GelukDge lugs
practices, they follow this usage. Shākya ChokdenShākya mchog ldan seems to disagree with this
practice, however, arguing that only three-part consequences should be
used.

[44] The defender is in a difficult position in this debate. Non-GelukDge lugs scholars would answer such a claim, which is often presented by GelukDge lugs
scholars as a refutation of their views, by making a quasi-Humean distinction
between the domain of reality, where duration does not exist, and the conceptual
domain, where duration is necessary. In reality, there is no duration—only a
succession of similar moments that create the false but useful impression that
things last. True to their moderate realism, the GelukDge lugs tradition understands
momentariness in a more commonsensical way. For them, a phenomenon is momentary
not because it lasts only a moment but because it is composed of temporal parts
and hence is in constant transformation. On these differences in the understanding
of the concepts of impermanence and momentariness, see Dreyfus, Recognizing
Reality, 63-65, 106-16.

[45] The exact
meaning of the statement o tsaro’ tshar is not easy to establish. I have it as “Oh, it’s
finished,” where oo’ is taken as an interjection. It could also be taken as
directed at the opponent